Elizabeth’s lips were set in a thin line. “Thank you for sharing your opinion, Mr. Darcy.”
Her formal language told Darcy very eloquently how badly he had blown it. He wanted to keep talking, to convince her, but he suspected he’d just make things worse. He did that sometimes.
She gave him a pointed look. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.”
“Of course.”
He watched her stride away. Elizabeth’s anger was probably good; it might help her forget the crush. But for some reason Darcy didn’t feel particularly relieved.
***
Elizabeth had hoped to talk with George after his audition, but she needed to run paperwork to the studio’s security office, and he had gone by the time she returned. A text from him said he felt good about the audition and thanked her again for the opportunity.
George seemed like a guy who deserved some breaks, and he would be fun to have around the set. Will’s reasons for hating the guy were inscrutable, so she was inclined to ignore his opinion.
Work for the True Colors project kept her at Building 4 late into the evening, long after shooting had finished. Elizabeth was finally trudging toward the exit of the mostly empty building when she noticed Roberta sitting at a monitor watching that day’s takes. She couldn’t help indulging her curiosity. “I hear you auditioned my friend, George, today.”
A shadow passed over Roberta’s face. “I’m afraid he’s not quite right for the part.”
Elizabeth tried to hide her disappointment. “Huh. I thought he was perfect—even the right hair color.”
The director sighed, slouching back in her chair. “Yeah, physically he’s a match. But his screen test didn’t go well.”
Had Roberta succumbed to pressure from Darcy? Elizabeth didn’t think the director would cave, but… “Did you talk to Darcy about him?”
Roberta’s brow furrowed. “No. Why would I discuss a casting decision with Will?”
Elizabeth let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Oh, he has a grudge against George, and I thought maybe he’d asked you not to cast him.”
Roberta pursed her lips. “Nobody needs to dissuade me from casting that man.”
“That bad, huh?” Elizabeth’s stomach knotted.
The director ran a distracted hand through her short dark hair. “Quite frankly, yes. He’s your typical wannabe actor who hasn’t invested any time to learn the craft. We see it all the time: people who think acting isn’t work—just pretending—and they can just come on set to emote. He doesn’t have a lot of experience—not even credits in theater or student films, nothing to show that he’s educating himself.”
Elizabeth had gotten George’s hopes up, and now they would be dashed. That was the nature of Hollywood, but she didn’t want to be part of the dream-crushing system. “That’s too bad. He seems like a nice guy who could use a break.” Of course, it was his fault he hadn’t invested the time to actually learn acting, but still… “Are they hiring extras?” At least he would earn a little money, and her heart wouldn’t be so heavy. After all, the guy was unemployed.
Roberta made a face; his audition must have been terrible. “You can talk to Melanie. She’s working with the extras. Maybe she can give him a couple days of work in one of the crowd scenes.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks!” Elizabeth hurried off the set. She’d talk to Melanie tomorrow.
Chapter Six
Darcy’s manager, Roy, had once taken him out to lunch and laid out in excruciating detail how he might be perceived as proud, difficult, and perfectionistic by the casts and crews he worked with. Roy had emphasized that good relations with these colleagues helped to reduce nasty and untrue rumors, and such relations had only grown more critical as he tried to recover his reputation after Palm Springs.
Roy had suggested that Darcy host an event to foster goodwill with the entire In the Shadows team. His first idea had been throwing a party, but the thought of a bunch of strangers tromping around Pemberley gave Darcy hives. They had compromised on a plan in which Darcy hosted a private party at a nightclub in L.A.
The owners of Stinger’s, one of the city’s hottest night spots, were thrilled to accommodate him; closing on a Tuesday night for a private event hosted by William Darcy was no hardship for the club. Roy’s assistant arranged the whole thing, thank God. All Darcy had to do was write a big check and show up.
He’d done some partying and clubbing in his younger days, before he got recognized so frequently. But, left to his own devices, Darcy tended toward the quiet and reclusive; being a Hollywood bon vivant didn’t come naturally to him. He was, however, a good method actor who could imagine being someone who enjoyed parties, and he played the role so convincingly that some people apparently didn’t have trouble believing every ridiculous thing they read on the internet. Sometimes he actually convinced himself that he was having a good time.
Hosting a party required more acting. It was a tricky balancing act: appearing convivial and amusing while ensuring that nobody thought he was drunk or high. With one of those damn urine tests the next day, he wasn’t planning to have more than one drink that night.
The club held around fifty people from In the Shadows when he arrived, and more trickled in behind him. Darcy secured a table in the VIP section, which was marginally quieter than the rest of the place.
Soon his booth filled up with the actors and crew he knew the best, including Elizabeth, who slid into a seat beside Jane. Despite being the only woman in the group who wasn’t displaying her assets in a skimpy dress—she had on a sequined tank top and tight black satin pants—Elizabeth was the one who drew Darcy’s eyes again and again.
I could invite her to dance with me. Just the thought of watching her glide and writhe in time with the music made his pulse quicken. If others are dancing with us, then nobody will notice if I’m singling her out—not that I would be singling her out, really. I wouldn’t want to give her false hope.
He had expected her to seek him out more frequently in the week since she’d left the assistant position. Although he’d been impressed that she’d never seemed interested in currying favor with him or using his fame to advance her career, he’d also been a bit surprised. That was how the game was played. She seemed too smart not to understand that.
Nevertheless, her apparent immunity to Hollywood BS was refreshing. His fame—or anyone’s really—didn’t faze her. No doubt she had read a lot about Darcy—it was almost impossible to avoid his name on the internet—but she had never asked about any rumors or displayed particular knowledge of them. Obviously she played her cards close to the vest.
No doubt she was casting longing stares in his direction when he didn’t notice and wishing she was still his assistant, but her self-restraint was remarkable.
Everyone at the table ordered a first round of drinks as they chatted. Elizabeth said little, merely drinking from a bottle of imported beer.
Naturally, Lydia was drawing attention. She leaned forward, showing her cleavage to best advantage, and chattered about her favorite topic of conversation: herself. “Mom said she knew I was going to be a star from the moment I was born. When I was little, I used to dress up in costume and put on shows. I mean, how clever is that? And, of course, my parents encouraged it. I had dance lessons, singing lessons, remedial singing lessons, acting lessons, elocution lessons—that’s where you learn to elocute—improv, everything they could find…”
Across the table from Darcy, Jane watched her younger sister with an indulgent smile while Elizabeth demonstrated admirable skill in not rolling her eyes.
Darcy only had one sister; they were four years apart and had been raised mostly by nannies. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have so many siblings—all trying to become actors and competing for their parents’ time and attention. How hard it must have been for a young Elizabeth to be told that Lydia was the favorite, that Lydia was prettier, that Lydia would be the star. Jane was four years older than E
lizabeth, so she had no doubt escaped many comparisons with the youngest in the family, but Elizabeth…?
He experienced a strange impulse to gather her into his arms and tell her how she was worth ten Lydias. How she was beautiful and smart and funny. And her parents were crazy if they preferred her younger sister.
It was most odd. Darcy had never experienced these sorts of thoughts about anyone. He’d been protective of Georgiana, but that was an obligation; it was something older brothers did. He wanted to cherish Elizabeth simply because she was worth it.
Darcy shook his head at his fanciful thinking and took a sip of scotch. Maybe all the sentiment in the screenplay was going to his head.
Conversation eventually turned to the True Colors shelter project, in which Jane and Charlie were eager participants. When Jane asked about it, Elizabeth’s face displayed all the animation it had earlier lacked. “The shelter’s director loves the idea,” Elizabeth explained. “She’s arranged for two chaperones and twenty kids to visit the set next week. After that each student will be assigned a mentor from the cast or crew who will work with the kid for a day or so.”
Jane practically bounced with enthusiasm. “I’m so glad we’re doing this! Until I started doing research for this role, I didn’t realize that forty percent of homeless teens are LGBTQ.”
“That’s terrible!” Lydia exclaimed
“When I was a kid, I would have killed for the chance to visit a movie set,” Charlie said. Darcy’s friend was sitting rather close to Jane. Were they still at the flirting stage, or had he already made his move?
Caroline caught Darcy’s eye and gave a disdainful sneer. They disagreed on many things but definitely saw eye-to-eye on bullshit charity projects.
After a second round of drinks, people started drifting to the dance floor in small groups until Elizabeth and Darcy were alone in the booth. He promised himself to stay cool and in control. It’s just Elizabeth, he reminded himself rather uselessly.
Could he move to the other side of the table and make it appear casual, or would that give her the wrong impression? Elizabeth resolved this dilemma for him by sliding around to sit by him. “I hope you don’t mind that I took a different position,” she said, staring determinedly at her drink. “I’d like to get a greater breadth of experience.” That made sense; a good working relationship with Perez might help Elizabeth get cast in some future movie.
Of course, such reasoning might just be a cover to conceal her feelings for Darcy.
“Not at all,” he said. “Although I miss seeing your smiling face every day.” He took another sip of his scotch.
“Kurt doesn’t smile?” she teased.
“Not much.”
“Does he get your coffee order right?” she asked.
“Yes. Perfect every time.” Darcy didn’t reveal that coffee was the only part of his job that Kurt got right.
“So maybe he’s better suited to the job than I was.”
Darcy didn’t reply. Over the past week Elizabeth had been putting together an entire charity project while managing to juggle all her regular PA duties. He was more and more convinced that the coffee mistakes were deliberate, but he didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was some strange attempt to get his attention.
She cleared her throat. “I was wondering if you would consider mentoring one of the teens from the True Colors shelter?” Was this why she had moved around the table to speak with him? Darcy tried to quash an irrational flare of disappointment. “You could have a lasting impact on some kid.”
“Or scar him for life.”
She laughed. “I doubt you’ll have sufficient time for that.”
Darcy couldn’t conceive of a more awkward situation than being responsible for some pimply-faced, sullen teenager. Even one day would be an eternity. Hell, Kurt was enough trouble for Darcy, and he was twenty-two. His new assistant was polite and cooperative but had no initiative; even after a week on the set, he didn’t seem to know any of the people on the crew or understand how anything worked. And he constantly worried about getting his chinos or loafers dirty. Hadn’t the guy thought to put on a pair of jeans?
Darcy disliked being asked to help with charities. He resented being put in such awkward situations. If he said yes to the project, he’d hate himself for caving and loath spending his precious free time on it. If he didn’t agree, then he’d be swamped with guilt and diminished in Elizabeth’s eyes. Not that it mattered what she thought of him, but still…
“I don’t have the time to devote to a mentee,” Darcy said.
“Your commitment can be as short as one day,” Elizabeth said with a touch of aspersion.
“Maybe I could make a donation to the shelter.” Darcy heard an edge of desperation in his voice.
“The cast is already giving money to the shelter; you can add to it. But mentoring a kid gives him or her something else: a unique experience, a lifelong memory, inspiration.” She leaned forward as excitement created a warm glow on her face. “You could change someone’s life.”
I change people’s lives by being a movie star, and I have the fan mail to prove it. But he couldn’t bring himself to say something so self-aggrandizing to Elizabeth. “Mentoring just isn’t my thing. I’d be an utter failure.”
Her skeptical expression suggested she didn’t buy that for a minute, which was a shame because it was the truth.
Maybe a different tack would work. “I guess it’s possible some teen might find talking to me enlightening, but the chances are far greater that they’re after a selfie so they can hashtag my name, or they want something I’ll autograph so they can sell it on the internet.”
Elizabeth drew back from him. “Cynical much?”
He shrugged. “Just a realist.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “I don’t get you. Every day you’re playing Eric Thorne, a guy who believes in the innate goodness of people and nearly kills himself to save someone’s life. What is that your character says? ‘I can’t look away from her. Everyone else has looked away. I’m the only one looking at her. I’m the only one who can watch out for her and people like her.’”
“Those are just lines in a script, words some screenwriter thought up. They’re not relevant.”
She blinked. “You don’t believe there’s any truth to them?”
Was she for real? “Nobody does, really. If we cared about other people the way that script says, then the world wouldn’t be such a crappy place. But we put lines like that into movies because it makes everyone feel better. It makes us appear to care. But nobody believes it. Not really.”
Elizabeth’s mouth hung open. Okay, maybe he had said more than he intended. But he was just saying what everyone was thinking.
“Wow,” Elizabeth said slowly. “That might be the most jaded thing I have ever heard.”
How should he respond to that? Thank you?
She stared at him like he was a particularly disgusting bug she’d found in an insect exhibit. He had the strangest feeling she had expected more from him, and he’d disappointed her. But that was absurd. He’d never claimed to be anything else. He’d never asked to be put on a pedestal.
She gulped from her wineglass. “I don’t understand you. You grew up in a mansion with servants. You have more money than you can spend in your lifetime. And women fall at your feet every time you go outside. Where do you get off calling the world a crappy place?”
Suddenly anger blazed through his veins. “Don’t assume that you know me or anything about my childhood.” He jabbed his finger at her. “Just because you read about it on IMDB doesn’t mean you know the first thing about how I grew up.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
He should have stopped; he’d made his point. But for some reason he wanted her to know more. “My mom didn’t want to be a mom, she wanted to be a movie star, and my dad was busy drinking himself to the bottom of every bottle. Maybe at one point they loved each other, but by the time I can remember anything, they were l
iving in different wings of the house. For my first ten years I was raised by an Armenian nanny who caned me as punishment.” It wasn’t until the nanny started hurting his sister that Darcy had the courage to tell his parents.
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
Darcy averted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “God, I’ve had too much to drink.” How had one scotch loosened his tongue that much? All right, maybe it had been two. “I can’t believe I told you all of that.”
“I won’t say anything to anyone,” she said softly.
He had no reason to believe her, but he did. Still, he hated the pity he saw in her eyes and averted his gaze to the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. “You’re not wrong that I’ve had a privileged existence, and money definitely…makes it easier. I bought a car so I could get out of the house. I started a film career so I could have my own money. I assembled a team of professionals—agents, managers, servants—to take care of me. I don’t want your sympathy; I just want you to understand that I come by my craptastic world view honestly.”
Immobile, she stared at him for a long moment. “Yeah, I’ll give you that.” She glanced down at her fingers picking off the label of her beer bottle. “You know, at the True Colors shelter, there’s probably a kid who was whipped by a…well, a babysitter. And who had a neglectful mom and an alcoholic dad. And when he or she came out to their parents, they were thrown out of their house, or maybe they ran away to avoid the beatings. And they wandered the streets of the city until they found True Colors.”
Darcy’s stomach rolled queasily. He just told Elizabeth that his fortune had allowed him to survive his parents. What was it like for the kids who didn’t have money?
“That’s what I like about In the Shadows,” she continued. “It helps makes those kids visible.”
Darcy felt about two inches tall. How could he be so cynical—and proud of his cynicism—in the face of such sincerity? Maybe what she was doing was a drop in the bucket, but at least she was doing something. By contrast, Darcy got paid way too much money to become the object of people’s fantasies. He gave money to charity, sure. But he wasn’t doing anything.
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